Maybe It’s All In Your Head


“I am fine,”
Sometimes I say things I do not mean,
But then I realize the hollowness of my chest,
How it yearns to be filled,
Empty words which were said,
Any words except “it’s all in your head.”

My fear plays a game of hide and seek,
Lurking in deep and murky corners,
It finds its way in the joyous moments,
How my fear is entitled to amusement,
While I die, choking on smoke as the unsaid words turn to fire.

Mother, I am not fine,
Those words I wrote in my diary,
They haunt me at night,
And those bustling parties,
How is it that I always end up on a table for two?
Alone.

Puking into my sink,
The unhealed wound, drenching my veins,
Becoming a bothersome woman,
I never expected to grow up,
But I had to.

I need time,
Time to figure out myself,
I keep drowning in the shadows,
But I promise I will find the time,
As soon as I finish this bottle of pills.

They say it is the way of the world,
But it is eating me alive,
Those strangling hands on my neck,
How my entire body shivers uncontrollably,
Knees clanking like two metal spoons.

We all fall apart,
But I did so too early,
Who is there to put you back together with your pieces all scattered?
How something so serious becomes a joke for others,
While sometimes it eats you alive.

They say it is all in my head,
But I remember it clearly,
Being cat-called at 9,
Told to cover my body like it was a sanctuary,
To a child, it felt so arbitrary.

Along vacant roads,
I see figures that others do not,
In a thaw of anxiety, I wait for it pass,
Time is at a halt,
Like my breath, stuck in my throat.

And I tried to recover, let my wings free again,
Was there pain? Yes.
Suffering? Yes.
Satisfaction? No.
Yet the blame was put on my clothes.

Sweaty hands and tear-stained faces,
How many likes could I get?
Rape- a joke for others cuts me down to size,
When lyrics start to make sense,
You know it is not a pretense.

Anxiety finds me,
At 9 in the morning or 12 at night,
Teeth bites on my back,
Pen marks on my wrist,
Yet they say my soul is fulfilled.

The little girl could not sleep,
Her mind was never at ease,
How it all happened too fast,
She did not know,
How it would leave a scar, left her in deep woe.

“Mother, will I ever be the same?”
“Hush my dear,” was her reply,
For she knew, this was a lie,
For her daughter would never be the same,
Yet she would have to pretend that she was sane.

How do I control this raging storm?
It never dies down,
Words reverbed and time slow,
How do I heal?
When my soul has forgotten how to feel?

Was it all a dream?
Her heart pounded and screamed,
While the brain was not rational and lucid dreamed,
How she wished it were someone else that night,
Or how someone had stopped to view the sight.

Gory visions and empty glasses,
How I fell asleep to the jubilant moments,
But was present in the past,
How I wish to be drugged back then,
But luckily it all happened in a haze.

Do we all go through the same?
But then who is it to blame?
I have been silent for too long,
Moving with the crowd all along,
My fire faded to grey.

Were the demons my allies?
The apocalypse my fate?
I stayed at home while the world went out to play,
I should have known,
That my silence was an act of violence.

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